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The scent that undresses.
Note: My comments are usually quite factual, objective, and at best even informative. The following: rather not.
This comment comes from the naive and inexperienced early perfume days, when fragrances still ended up being tested everywhere. It was never posted, as I deemed it too harsh. I dug it up again and decided to publish it, as this scent encountered me today at 20 degrees and glorious spring on the playground and has already ruined my entire day from the start. Hence the decision to leave a little warning.
"A spritz of this fragrance leaves the freshly acquired bottle. A spritz in the crook of my neck, unfortunately on the collar of my sweater, followed by a deep, curious breath. But that should take my breath away. Sticky, dense, suffocating, and overwhelming. As if someone grabbed me from behind and shoved my whole head into a giant pot of 'almond-tonka cream.'
The sticky, sugary mass fills my airways, my lungs, presses my diaphragm against my ribs, and screams: Today, I take no prisoners!
Completely taken by surprise, I dash onto the terrace and shed my sweater. I stand at 2°C and swirling snow-rain dressed in nothing but a tank top in my garden, trying to breathe.
The birds are puzzled. Fluffed up and in a bad mood, they sit in the fir tree waiting for better weather. Instead, one of those strange hairless mammals disturbs their peace and gasps while throwing off clothes."
In retrospect, I am sure the birds would have almost fallen from the tree as well, but my memory is clouded and lost in the fog. I had to dispose of the sweater, as I could never get the scent out of the fabric.
I can only urge everyone, should they endure and even enjoy this scent for reasons I cannot understand, to use it sparingly and in no other season than the deepest, darkest winter.
The wave of horror caught me unprepared today and hit me cold. I mean, who does such a thing? In spring? On a playground! There are young, innocent children and usually exhausted mothers from home-schooling/office/workplace whatsoever around. And tearing off clothes unfortunately doesn't help when someone else is wearing the scent.
This comment comes from the naive and inexperienced early perfume days, when fragrances still ended up being tested everywhere. It was never posted, as I deemed it too harsh. I dug it up again and decided to publish it, as this scent encountered me today at 20 degrees and glorious spring on the playground and has already ruined my entire day from the start. Hence the decision to leave a little warning.
"A spritz of this fragrance leaves the freshly acquired bottle. A spritz in the crook of my neck, unfortunately on the collar of my sweater, followed by a deep, curious breath. But that should take my breath away. Sticky, dense, suffocating, and overwhelming. As if someone grabbed me from behind and shoved my whole head into a giant pot of 'almond-tonka cream.'
The sticky, sugary mass fills my airways, my lungs, presses my diaphragm against my ribs, and screams: Today, I take no prisoners!
Completely taken by surprise, I dash onto the terrace and shed my sweater. I stand at 2°C and swirling snow-rain dressed in nothing but a tank top in my garden, trying to breathe.
The birds are puzzled. Fluffed up and in a bad mood, they sit in the fir tree waiting for better weather. Instead, one of those strange hairless mammals disturbs their peace and gasps while throwing off clothes."
In retrospect, I am sure the birds would have almost fallen from the tree as well, but my memory is clouded and lost in the fog. I had to dispose of the sweater, as I could never get the scent out of the fabric.
I can only urge everyone, should they endure and even enjoy this scent for reasons I cannot understand, to use it sparingly and in no other season than the deepest, darkest winter.
The wave of horror caught me unprepared today and hit me cold. I mean, who does such a thing? In spring? On a playground! There are young, innocent children and usually exhausted mothers from home-schooling/office/workplace whatsoever around. And tearing off clothes unfortunately doesn't help when someone else is wearing the scent.
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10 Comments
Trophy for you.